In the vicinity of the Mystery Forge...
Niklas is shocked that someone would recede from his grasp. Do they not know that they all exist to provide momentary amusement and/or ingredients for his next masterpiece?
"But I was! Am! Don't worry, I'm 40% sure that it wouldn't have hurt."
She backs away a little further. Oh, fine. He floats over to the blacksmith.
"Can I try something?"
"Nope!" he says, jumping back as well. "While I am insatiably curious, I do value my flesh a little bit too much!" he says, grinning wildly.
In the wilderness not very far from Eckledun...
Sigmund figures that there surely is no way a divine entity could be busy enough to refuse two whole calls made in good faith within a short period of time, and that neither could there be any way that the gravity of his situation is in any way unclear. So he tries again, attempting to hide the slight frustration in his thoughts.
~Oh, Narcillicus! My body has been squandered repetitively by entities performing some kinds of macabre experiments, or maybe some dark arts I can not comprehend. My body has lost its integrity. Please guide me to make it more appealing to the eye, more useful again!~
No reply. Sigmund guesses that the god of art must have joined the divine dickbag club under president Velusius in the not too distant past as well. All the other gods probably bowed to peer pressure at that point and joined up as well. Prayer is obviously not going to work, so that just leaves magic. A quick examination of the metaphysical knots of his flesh reveals to Sigmund that he can't seem to read the metaphysical knots on his flesh for some reason. The sun's probably in his metaphysical eyes.
Right outside the Black Tower of Eckledun...
After conferring with Morton for a short moment, Scott has a thought that is nothing short of brilliant. If he can suddenly manifest flames out of nothing but a sheer effort of will, why can't he export some of his highly traumatic experiences to whoever he wishes for the purposes of making them sympathize with his plight all that much more efficiently (and optionally go mad from the revelation)?
It takes him a moment to realize something. He can't do that because he's not a telepath. That's why, mostly. But there's sure to be other reasons, of course, as Scott very well knows, being an old hand at this whole experimentation business. Only a very dire situation could possibly awaken the power within him. Hm. Maybe he could ask Morton to- wait, where did Morton go?
The answer to that question is, sadly, not within Scott's immediate visual range. And Tailor Craig appears to have gone off as well, leaving him all alone and miserable as usual. Perhaps Scott should go looking for trouble. That'd show Morton that he really shouldn't leave him alone like this. Maybe he could set the city on fire, or at least frighten a baby to death or something. That'd be an adequate way to prove the moral low ground.
But this train of thought could not be any less relevant to Morton and, by extension, Craig's current activity, which is a bit of an engagement at the Purging Crab, where he seeks a person with information to share about any evil wizards traveling about. Fortunately, he finds a very evil-looking wizard (that is to say, wearing a black robe, mask and hood, and having no visible knives to obviously identify him as a confused assassin who doesn't quite understand disguise) who may, in fact, have answers. Morton approaches him and, in the most polite cadence he can muster, asks him if he's seen any wizards who may or may not be involved in the subjugation and destruction of Mothdale.
"Oh! You must mean those consortium tossers on a mission, right?" says he in a gruff manner, smelling strongly of cheap booze. "That lot's been sighted in the other inn in town, at least a couple of 'em, but they be long gone by now. You try Mothdale itself, or izzat still as unsafe as it was a day ago?"
Morton suspects that this man is very drunk, though surprisingly knowledgeable despite this. Delegating further conversation to an amiable Craig, who he is polite enough to introduce as wonderfully as possible to the obviously evil wizard, whose name is Lawrence, it seems, he heads over to the teapot and starts working out the preparations for creating an enchanted cup of tea specifically created to be the perfect temperature for consumption. A little while later he is entirely consumed by the thought of the process, and just about ready to burst forth his enchantment.
In the domicile of Ms. Klemm...
Kevin realizes that he hasn't really eaten anything in a while. Possibly since the first time he died, even. So dinner is sounding pretty nice, what with how suddenly hungry he's feeling. It's a bit weird, feeling hungry. Alien feeling.
"Yes, that'd be lovely."
"Excellent," Ms. Klemm says, clapping her hands together with a tinge of excitement. "Follow me, dinner is served already, I believe."
Together they walk out of the rather sizable office and into what looks like a hallway - the grassy and altogether natural look of the place, complete with sun-like lighting continues, although the hallway certainly appears to have a higher ceiling, with passages, staircases and balconies lining the sides. Must have been some elaborate necropolis before Ms. Klemm moved in. They take a right immediately after exiting the office and move into a different room - it's the exact same sort of hall as the one Kevin entered, but a little different in how it's been repurposed. The walls, floors and ceilings are still comfortable imitations of things you'd find in nature, but here there is a small round table in the middle of the room with some chairs next to it, and out of each sarcophagus along the side sprouts a set of vines that seem to have climbed all over the walls - each vine has a series of pods growing out of it, and small antlike creatures are clambering all over the place, seemingly tending to each pod with a great deal of attention and care.
"Hello, my cuties!" she coos at the room. "Meal for two, please!"
The ant things immediately respond, checking over several pods before choosing four different ones and bringing them over to the table.
"This way, Ms. Cooker," Ms. Klemm says, bringing Kevin over to the table, where they both sit down opposite one another. Ms. Klemm wastes no time, immediately thrusting her fingers into the seam of one of her pods and peeling it open, producing a plate-like shape full of what look like peas. She peels open the other one, and inside is a rather impressive slab of fruit flesh, attached to the inside of the pod with three separate white strings. She quickly separates the fruit and takes a bite, her teeth vaguely yellowish and very sharp-looking.
"Mm. Still warm, too," she says after swallowing the bite. "The menu is strictly vegetarian, I'm afraid, but it's very good nonetheless, to say nothing of the richness of it."
She looks over at one of the passing ant things.
"And the service is positively adorable, too!" she says. The ant thing pauses, possibly to determine whether its mistress wants anything, and Kevin notices that it appears to be a little bit fuzzy. Hopefully those aren't urticating hairs. He looks down at his two pods. Since they look exactly the same as Ms. Klemm's, he peels them open. Strangely, the peas, unlike her bright green, seem to have a slightly golden tinge, and the slab of pineapple-like flesh is similarly slightly richer in color.
In the chamber of the Crown of Flowers...
Darren gets the feeling his unlife may be in a tenuous position presently.
"No, not sure," he says, and the ghost opposite him tilts its head quizzically and a little playfully. "Any idea on how to weasel out of a deal with a god?"
"There are few ways, and most of them rely on the god in question losing interest. Not unlikely, depending on how bored the god of death may be. If you want to take that option, you simply float on out of here and pretend nothing ever happened, and leave us all to figure out how to get rid of this bloody curse."
~... and then forever wonder what moment will I choose to enact my revenge upon you, and what method will I choose to do so...~ goes a sinister voice in Darren's head, and he feels his very soul tighten for a moment, as if squeezed by some powerful force.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 561874 times)